


It Was Silver

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Feels, Derek and Stiles are Mates, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mates, Mates by Choice, Oblivious Stiles, POV Derek, POV Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski Feels, Werewolf Lore, Werewolf Marriage, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is planning on marrying Stiles. He manages to be thoroughly freaked out.</p><p>Oh well, all's well that ends well, right?</p><p>Let's hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ask

Sheriff Stilinski just sat there, mouth half-agape, looking at the floor. Derek had just said all those things about his son. Derek figured he was probably going to get shot soon. As the seconds of silence ticked by, he thought the possibility was more and more likely. Derek toyed with the small wooden box in his hand.

The sheriff stirred. “So what are you asking me, Mr. Hale?" The sheriff always called Derek that. He knew it made the alpha uncomfortable.

Derek sighed. He always knew he would have to say the words. He had been seeing Stiles for nearly five years. They were closer than they had ever been, closer to being whole than they had ever been, and had talked about mate-bonding. Like humans, werewolves mated for life. Stiles’ life would be tied to Derek’s own. They both wanted it, talked about it on and off for the past six months. That still didn’t help Derek push the doubt from his mind while the Sheriff looked at him in that sideways judgmental glare that he totally recognized from Stiles’ repertoire of facial expressions. “I am asking for your permission to marry (he was careful not to use the word ‘mate’ around the Sheriff) your son." he handed the sheriff the box, who didn’t open it.

Derek thinks he knows the answer before the sheriff gives it to him. I mean, the sheriff had married Stiles’ mom because it was love at first sight. That was definitely not the case with Derek and Stiles. They had an uneasy relationship at best when they first met, only drawn together by Scott becoming a werewolf himself.

But that was before. That was before Stiles risked his life so many times to save the surly, brooding werewolf from stuff that he invariably got himself trapped in, and that was before Stiles had told Derek how he felt.

Once that happened, Derek was screwed. Not that he didn’t try to pull away, to keep the human at a distance. No one would fault him for that, given his past. Stiles was just… persistent. By sheer force of will, he made Derek fall in love with him to the point where being separated from him was almost agony.

But that ship had sailed as well. For a while, they completed each other, filling the holes that had been left by death and trauma. But then they realized that there was more to it than simply completing each other. They made each other better. Each one not only helped mend the wounds that time had created in the other, and the flesh grew together newer, stronger, and different. A part of each of them was embedded inside the heart of the other, and everything seemed to click into place.

These thoughts rushed through Derek’s mind as the sheriff contemplated what the alpha had just said. Derek rested his hands on his knees, eyes fixed on the ground, and prepared for the worst.

"You know…" The sheriff paused. Derek could hear his own heartbeat quicken. "…In another time, I would have told you flat out ‘no.’ I would have thrown you from this house and told you never to go near my son again, or I would kill you." The sheriff sighed. “But we have all lost so much. Stiles’ mom, your whole family, members of your pack…"

Derek’s ears perked up at that. The sheriff gave him a knowing look.

"… But you two make each other happy. I have seen it. Derek, the way he talks to you? It’s like when he used to talk to his mom."

Derek sidestepped the glaringly creepy words and saw what the sheriff was saying despite the words leaving his mouth.

"I can’t deny him this…" He gestured to Derek. “I can’t do that to him. As much as I think I don’t understand it, I do."

Derek gulped. He never expected this.

"But, I can tell you this. You will not hurt him. Because if you do," the sheriff produced two hand-made buckshot rounds from his jacket pocket, and Derek could smell the wolfsbane. “If you do, I will end you. Clear?"

"Crystal, sir." Derek swallowed hard again. He made to stand as the sheriff did so, and offered a hand in thanks. The sheriff pushed it aside and wrapped the werewolf in a bone-crushing hug. Derek stood there, flabbergasted, frozen to the spot, even after the sheriff released him.

He slowly turned to leave, pushing the door open and thanking the sheriff as he did so. The elder Stilinski caught his arm. “You know how Stiles always says that it was ‘love at first sight’ between his mom and I?"

Derek chuckled. He did, actually. “Yeah."

"Well it wasn’t. Not at first. Not for her. If it wasn’t for my persistence, she would never had married me. Somehow, though, I managed to get under the wire." The sheriff released his arm, patted him on the back, and lightly shoved him out the door. “Let me know how it goes." He replaced his usually serious expression with a big grin. He already knew how it would go. He threw Derek the box. “I like the ring. Nice touch." He gave Derek a nod and closed the door.

And go, it did. Derek proposed, and Stiles invariably said yes. The kiss they shared that night in the woods was the best Derek had ever experienced. It was all he could do not to shift and devour Stiles right then and there. Later that night, when they were in bed, panting, recovering after a particularly torrid love-making, Stiles turned to Derek, resting on his elbow, while the werewolf traced random circles on the human’s side.

"Out of curiosity, why do you love me?" It was a question meant only for the night, for the dark, in one of the rare moments when vulnerability can get to a person. Derek put a hand on the shadow-enveloped side of Stiles’ face and pulled him into a quick kiss.

"Because you were persistent. And somehow, you managed to slip under the wire." Stiles smiled in the dark, and buried his face in Derek’s shoulder, holding their bodies close. Derek just laid there, feeling Stiles’ warmth, and noticed the new glint of metal on Stiles’ hand. It was the ring he had made special. On it was carved the same triskelion that adorned his back.

It was silver.


	2. You Had Better Not Cock This Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles prepare for their anniversary dinner. Derek finds out that the pack knows more than he thinks they do. Also, Lydia Martin is really, really awesome.

Derek heard the door click shut as he walked down the front walk towards the camaro. He was still nervous, almost unbearably so, but the conversation with the sheriff had gone so well that his fears had been qualmed, if ever so slightly. Actually, did it go well? Derek was still trying to figure that out. The sheriff hadn’t shot him, or thrown him out, so he guessed that it had gone better than he expected, which was, in mostly everything involving Derek Hale, a good thing.

Really, that was the defining statement of he and Stiles’ whole relationship: better than expected. Derek thought about it as he climbed into the camaro and turned the ignition over. He decided to roll down the windows, and let in the cool, Northern California evening air, hoping it would clear his head before he went to pick up Stiles. He planned on wasting no time in asking the human. The longer he waited, the more likely it would slip out of Erica or Scott, the only two pack-related people he told about it, or hell, even the sheriff. Derek couldn’t risk that. He also figured that Scott would be the most likely to ruin it. After all, he was Stiles’ best friend. And as such, Derek had talked to him long before he had decided to go to the sheriff.

His mind played through all of the worst-case scenarios he could think of. The pack telling Stiles before he had the chance to do it, them challenging him, or Stiles (who would be alpha-by-proxy, once the mate-bond had been fully formed) if they didn’t like the way things were running, Stiles usurping Derek’s tenuous authority (Derek included this only because he wanted to consider absolutely everything that could potentially go wrong, but he knew it would never come to that), and finally, with a deep sinking feeling, Derek thought about what would happen if Stiles said no. He didn’t even want to consider that, but seeing as how it was the worst of the worst-case scenarios, he had to. Instantly his mind went into overdrive thinking about the varying ways that could go down. His stomach sunk even lower into his abdomen with a cold clench. Derek willed himself to snap out of it. He had spent many years in the dark recesses of his mind to which those thoughts took him. But thanks to Stiles, his journeys into that particular headspace had been fewer and farther between. If for some reason this whole thing didn’t work out, he was worried that he would end up permanently stuck in that part of his mind for good. Or worse.

Derek was snapped out of his internal meanderings by a chime from his phone. It was Stiles. Speak of the devil.

Yo, Sourwolf. Happy anniversary. Where are you? Derek quickly read the text message and put the phone back down. When he came to the next stop sign, he paused, and answered. 

Almost back to the loft.

Lies. Where were you?

Errands.

Liar. I’m at the loft. See you soon. Derek hated that Stiles knew him well enough to know when he was hiding something. He also loved him for it. The love typically outweighed the hate, though. Hence the reasoning behind the alpha’s earlier conversation with the sheriff. Okay, the love really outweighed the hate. There was no hate. Not anymore, at least. Stiles was persistent in ridding the alpha of that particular emotion, at least towards him. It took time, and work, and, let’s face it, the human saving his ass more times than he could count before he finally admitted it was gone completely.

Derek reminisced as he pulled the camaro into the garage and got out and made his way up the stairs. He knew Stiles was inside, not just because the he had managed to steal his keys and make a copy without Derek’s consent a few years ago, but because his scent was still clinging to the door handle. Derek thought it was fitting that he had come to associate it with home. He pulled open the door, and sure enough, there was Stiles, sitting cross-legged on the couch, one of Derek’s bestiaries open on his lap. Derek turned around and closed the door as Stiles looked up.

“Where were you? We gotta go. We have reservations in an hour,” Stiles complained as Derek strode over and kissed his lips lightly.

“I told you, I had errands to run.” Stiles’ eyes narrowed with skepticism. Derek chose to change the subject. A brilliant one, he was.

“Is that what you are wearing?” Derek knew the white-tablecloth place they were going for dinner, and he was fairly certain that Stiles’ open flannel shirt and jeans would not be appropriate. Stiles looked affronted. Derek knew he was feigning it.

“Uh, casual can be sexy,” Stiles said with a shimmy. Derek used copious amounts of effort to keep the scowl on his face. Stiles chuckled, closing the bestiary and walking towards the bedroom. “Relax, Sourwolf. I brought a change of clothes.” He disappeared into the bedroom and came back out swinging two hangers. One held a pair of grey slacks, the other a dark, nearly crimson-red button-down shirt. It was matched with a slate-grey tie. “Lydia helped me pick them out yesterday.”

Derek knew it. Stiles had let slip their dinner plans, and she must have instantly put two and two together. And if she knew... Derek shook his head, eyes growing wide with fear.

“What, don’t you like it?” Stiles had legitimate concern in his voice. Derek could also smell it on him, but that was another story. He quickly modified his deer-in-the-headlights expression

“Wha- Oh, yeah, of course. You will look great. You always do,” he said as he walked up to Stiles, still swinging the hangers, and kissed his cheek lightly. “C’mon, let’s go shower.” He took Stiles hand and led him there.

They made idle chit-chat while they washed themselves, complaining about work, Stiles doing the majority of the talking while Derek washed his back, and Derek listening, mostly, offering a word or two occasionally. To the outside viewer, their exchange might have seemed boring, but it made Derek happy. Stiles too. Derek could tell. While Stiles rinsed himself, Derek massaged the human’s scalp with his fingers, and smiled lightly as his body relaxed, and he began to hum contentedly. After a few moments, Stiles broke the silence.

“So, I was reading up on mate-bonding while I waited for you.” He turned around and motioned for Derek to get under the water, and began returning the scalp massage to the werewolf, who, despite all the obvious dog-jokes that Stiles could usually think of, loved it when the human rubbed his head. Derek felt his body relax into it as Stiles continued talking. He had already perused every piece of literature he owned/was able to find on the werewolf mating process. But it gave him an extremely warm and excited feeling to hear Stiles wax eloquent about the subject, getting sidetracked by the differences in human and werewolf sense of smell. It really just confirmed his plans. Derek allowed himself a small smile. Silently, he quickly remembered where he put the little wooden box that held the ring he was going to use. Center console of the camaro. He breathed an internal sigh of relief.

Then he allowed himself to become blissed out as Stiles continued to talk. He didn’t remember a word of it anyway, because he already knew the process backwards and forwards.

It all starts with the scent.

A werewolf nose, already given, by virtue of the bite, a highly-attuned sense of smell, has the capacity to remember over twenty times the amount of olfactory triggers than the human nose. There is also a stronger organismic connection between memory and scent, allowing a particular smell to call up very specific memories, feelings, and thoughts, even if the span of time between interactions with said scent is marked in years.

So when choosing a mate, it is not so much that the werewolf actually makes the choice. They essentially have no choice but to follow their nose. Over time, the scent of a mate, if compatible, will imprint itself into the memory-smell linkage, and the werewolf will become especially sensitive to it, as well as its variations. Emotional transference will begin to occur from the potential mate to the werewolf, progressively getting stronger as interactions between the two increase, to the point where the werewolf will be able to feel and think what their mate is thinking almost before they do, based on specific, subconsciously-activated olfactory triggers. If the potential mate is a human, this process is largely one-sided, but can spill over in some rare cases. With two werewolves in this stage, the mate-bonding experience occurs in both directions.

Eventually, the markers become so ingrained in the scent-memory connections that active communication, in the form of something akin to telepathy, or mind-reading, will occur. This can happen in both werewolf-human pairs and werewolf-werewolf pairs, and typically begins with the first intercourse of the pair (if both werewolves), or through The Bite (if the potential mate is still a human)...

Derek knew all of it. He and Stiles had even talked about it. The only point of contention was the bite. Stiles was ready, but Derek was not. They were not yet in each other’s heads, not totally, at least, but Derek had been able to essentially read Stiles’ mind through his scent for some time already. Stiles yearned for that particular connection, and so did Derek. He just didn’t like what could potentially happen if Stiles rejected the bite, or became something like Jackson. If that happened, Derek wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He voiced these concerns to Stiles before, and the human just laughed, kissing his nose, and saying that Derek should be more worried about the pack voting him out of alpha and placing Stiles in his stead.

“That’s not how it works,” Derek had said with an exasperated sigh. He knew Stiles was joking, but it was a silent fear of his. Stiles just laughed.

“Like I would do that to you,” Stiles scoffed. “And besides, by the time the mating process is complete, I will be alpha-by-proxy anyway, regardless of whether or not I am still human.” He was right. While not a true alpha in the sense that he killed another or became one by sheer force of will, Stiles would be Derek’s mate, and the pack would be compelled to follow his orders as if they were Derek’s. The only problem is that they could challenge him as well. Which would mean that either he would need Derek to intervene for him, or that he would be killed. 

Yeah, Derek would not be able to handle either of those things. Because it would mean either killing one of his own or Stiles. At the time, these thoughts hit Derek like a bludgeon, threatening to make him retreat from Stiles and put as much distance as he could between them in order to protect him. But it wouldn’t work, because Stiles always found his way back, no matter how huge the obstacles Derek erected to keep him at bay.

“Don’t do that, Derek.” Stiles knew what he was thinking. He had seen it in his eyes, which suddenly became heavy with doubt. The human had lifted the chin of the werewolf, forcing him to gaze into the amber-brown of Stiles’ eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. So stop it.” It was true. 

Derek let the memory wash over him as Stiles turned off the shower faucet, bringing Derek back to reality.

Stiles hopped out of the shower, and grabbed a towel, tossing another one to Derek. The alpha couldn’t help but watch greedily as the human dried himself off, not knowing it, but looking completely irresistible.

“Stop staring at my ass and get dressed. We need to go.” Whether he liked it or not, they were both in each other’s heads. And it was getting stronger. Derek finished drying himself off as Stiles grabbed his clothes off the door and began getting dressed in the bedroom. Derek began to get ready, wrapping his towel around his waist. He hung up Stiles’ towel, and sprayed a little cologne on himself. He knew Stiles liked it. He set about brushing his teeth, fixing his hair, and feeling his anxiety increase steadily as the minutes ticked by. That was when Stiles stepped back into view, using the full-length mirror on the back of the door to tie his tie. Derek had to do a double-take and remember how to breathe. Stiles was standing there in the same red shirt and grey slacks from before, everything fitted and tailored perfectly (thanks to Lydia, no doubt), with a look of concentration as he worried over the half-windsor he was attempting on the grey tie. He looked, and more importantly, smelled perfect. Derek lost all composure at the sight of his mate, grumbling to himself as he fixed his tie.

Boy was he screwed. His nerves went into overdrive. His heart began to race, and he could feel a sweat coming on that would probably ruin the shower he just took. It was worse when Stiles finished fussing over his tie, turned towards him, and gave him a stupid smile and a questioning look.

“Whaddya think?”

Derek took a moment. Because he could. And you know, he couldn’t figure out how to english. “Wow. I just- wow. You look- just... gorgeous.” Stiles’ eyebrows raised in surprise. He was not used to adjectives from the werewolf. The look of surprise then turned to one of self-satisfaction, which both helped and harried Derek’s nerves.

“Good. By the way, Lydia sent over something for you too. She said you would need to look your best. I told her it was just dinner, just our anniversary, nothing too special. But she insisted. And you know Lydia...” Stiles rolled his eyes and shrugged as he went to the bed and returned holding a small shirt-box from the apparently very high-end clothing store she had taken Stiles to. He opened the lid and pulled back the tissue paper, which crinkled noisily as he did so. Underneath was tie and matching silk pocket square, each embroidered in what looked like a paisley pattern that you could only see if you held it the right way. They were almost black, with a hint of the crimson red of Stiles’ shirt intermingled throughout the fabric. There was a small wooden box too, that had a tie clip in it. It was made of brushed silver, and had been engraved with Derek’s triskelion. She knew. Of course she did. Lydia knew everything. Derek’s heart hammered against his ribcage. He looked back at the tie and the pocket square. What he had thought was a simple paisley pattern turned out to be interworked with more of Derek’s triskeles, each part of the pattern given shape by them. Goddamn, Lydia as good. Then he saw the note underneath a fold of the tissue paper. How she managed to procure these was beyond his comprehension. She must have known for a while. His eyebrows went mid-forehead as he read it.

You had better not cock this up. Hopefully these will help. Wear that black suit that you think I don’t know about, and pair the tie with that ‘red’ shirt of yours.

P.S. It is about damn time.

-LM

Derek gaped, and Stiles was absentmindedly straightening his collar, and brushing lint off of his shirt in the mirror. He looked back at Derek’s expression in the reflection.

“What are you doing? Go get ready. We need to be gone in 15 minutes!” Derek wordlessly turned and made his way into the closet. He shrugged on the only red shirt he owned, which, turns out, matched the tie perfectly; it was again, nearly black, with a hint of red that was barely noticeable unless you looked at it the right way. He tied his new tie, pulled on the slacks, a belt, his dress shoes, and a watch. Finally, he shrugged on his jacket and placed the pocket square. It stood out only slightly, jagged triangular edges poking up from the breast pocket. Derek gave himself a once-over, and stepped out of the closet, only to step right back in to grab the tie clip. It was the finishing touch, after all. Stiles was sitting on the bed and looked up as Derek entered the room again.

Now it was Stiles’ turn to be speechless. It was a rarity. Stiles almost always had something to say.

Derek managed a not-too-nervous “well?” As stiles took him in.

“... I, wow. I can’t. Holy crap. Ungh, the things I want to do to you...” Stiles got up and pulled himself close to the alpha, his scent taking on a strong, pheremonal flavor that made Derek’s spine feel like jelly. Derek inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as Stiles pulled playfully on the front of his jacket, and nuzzled his neck. He felt the human’s lips brush his throat, and his head lolled backwards as a meant-to-be-stifled growl escaped his lips.

“Later...” Derek whispered into Stiles’ ear.  
The human pulled back and shook his head. “Fine. But I will hold you to that.” He waggled a finger in Derek’s face. The alpha scowled. Then his eyes darted to Derek’s tie. “Did Lydia get...?” Derek suppressed a moment of panic.

“Yeah.” Derek ran the tie between his fingers just below the clip. Stiles did the same, and touched the clip too, running a pointer finger over the engraved triskelion. Derek contemplated telling him right then and there. His nerves were fried.

“It’s beautiful. When did she...?” The human’s face went to its naturally interrogatory expression. Derek loved that. But it was not helping at the moment.

“No idea.” Stiles didn’t notice the pattern on the tie, yet.

“Wow. She is good,” Stiles said, as he replaced the tie against Derek’s midsection, letting his fingers graze against the werewolf. Derek could feel the questions forming in Stiles’ mind. He scowled in an attempt to cover up his deer-in-the-headlights look yet again. Stiles planted a quick kiss on his lips and took his hand. “Let’s go, Sourwolf,” he said and led Derek from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. There is at least one more chapter, but it is still in the WIP stage. Might be a fourth too. I hope you like it. It came together a little oddly, but overall, I like the end product.
> 
> If y'all find anything that you think needs editing, by all means let me know.
> 
> And thank you for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting. Seriously. It means a lot to me.
> 
> If you are interested, check out my tumblr. It is chock-full of Sterek fun: www.watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com :)
> 
> Thanks again!
> 
> -SK


	3. Going Back to the Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Derek chuckled. Stiles looked back at him. 'Recognize this place?' His face was smiling, but his tone was soft.
> 
> 'Yeah. It took me a minute, but this is where we met, if I am not mistaken.' He wasn’t. It was.
> 
> 'Yup. I figured it was appropriate. Well, more appropriate than that fancy restaurant.'"

They pulled up to the restaurant, parked, and Derek stood up out of the car, Stiles quickly following suit. Scott had been texting him incessantly since they left the loft, and he was getting irritated.

Meanwhile Derek was slipping slowly into madness as his anxiety began to take root more and more. This dinner experience, as nice as it was sure to be, was not going to be fun. Derek was still working through the plan in his head, as Stiles grumbled about Scott. As they came around the front of the car, Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand, and they walked up to the restaurant. Derek straightened his tie with his free hand neurotically. When they were about to pull open the front door, Stiles stopped.

“Shit.”

“What?” Derek was not in the mood for surprises. Not tonight.

“I need to put my phone in the car.” He held a hand out for Derek’s keys expectantly. Derek rolled his eyes and then obliged, fishing them out of his pocket and handing them over. Derek was used to Stiles strange whims and short attention span. Usually everything had a reason. His guess was that Stiles didn’t want constant texts from Scott to interrupt dinner. He felt a pang of affection for the human. For a second, his nervousness seemed to abate.

Stiles sauntered back over to the car, and leaned in through the passenger side door. He was fishing around in the cabin when Derek saw him stop abruptly. The werewolf didn’t really pay any mind to it until he heard Stiles call, “uh, Derek, can you come here for a second?”  
Derek froze to the spot. He wasn’t sure what to do, but running away seemed like the most viable option, especially when his mind retraced the location of the ring. Center console, camaro. He closed his eyes and willed Stiles not to have found it. It was an impossibility that Derek should have planned for, admittedly. When he turned, he saw Stiles leaning against the crook of the door, half-smirk on his face, holding the small wooden box which Derek was now classifying as a traitor for allowing itself to be found so quickly.

But it wasn’t like there was a whole lot of other stuff in the console for Stiles to root around in. Regardless, Derek began to make his way back over to the car. He had his hands jammed into his pockets, and was staring intently at the ground a few feet in front of his face.

‘What is this?” Stiles asked knowingly. Like he wanted to hear it from Derek’s own lips.

“You know.” Derek inclined. Of course Stiles knew.

“Right. And this is where you were planning on doing it?” Stiles gestured emphatically towards the restaurant as he asked. Derek was busy counting gravel on the pavement with the toe of his shoe.

Derek said it almost too quietly to hear. He felt like Stiles was judging him, but he dismissed the notion. “Yes.”

“You got it wrong you know.” Derek was pretty sure he was living out one of his own nightmares at this point. When he didn’t answer Stiles’ indirect question, the human continued. “This,” he gestured at the fancy restaurant, “I don’t need it for this,” he held up the box, which he had conspicuously not opened, “to be special. Any of it...”

Derek was still trying to figure out what he had gotten wrong. He had worked so hard to make sure everything would be perfect for tonight. “Hey, stop doing that, alright?” Stiles was in his head again. The mate-bond was growing stronger. “I shouldn’t have said that. There is nothing wrong with this. But I have a better idea.”

Derek inclined his head slightly. He was curious, but still terrified.

“Give me the keys.” Stiles held out his hand again. Derek’s fear grew exponentially. “Oh, get over yourself, I drive this thing all the time when you aren’t around.” Derek raised his eyebrows. He learns something new about Stiles every single day. He reluctantly parted with the keys, lightly tossing them to Stiles over the roof as they switched sides. Stiles climbed in and slammed the door closed a little too hard. Derek resisted the urge to complain. That lasted until Stiles peeled out of the parking spot, causing Derek to wolf out just a smidge.

“Relax, Der. You have done way worse in this.” Stiles said as he deftly handled the steering wheel. The human had a point, but that was different. He wasn’t behind the wheel right now, and it was not a fun sensation. Freaking metaphors.

Derek didn’t say much as they sped along the road out of Beacon Hills through the woods, a very familiar part of the woods. In fact, when Stiles pulled off the main road into the pullout that served as the unofficial driveway to the abandoned Hale house and the Beacon Hills Preserve, Derek couldn’t help but glare at him suspiciously. The human took the keys out of the ignition and grabbed the box (which he had kept on his lap the entire drive) before quickly stepping out of the car, not waiting for Derek to follow.

When Derek did, he noticed that Stiles was fingering the box absentmindedly as they walked, his subconscious probably fighting him to look at the contents.They walked in the failing light down the road, until Stiles decided abruptly to turn off and head into the woods proper. Derek hesitated, mostly because experience had taught him over the years that nothing good happens in Beacon Hills after dark. Especially in the woods. It was an ironic site, the human trudging off through the leaves into the trees with the werewolf hanging back. So Derek followed Stiles, keeping an eye out for anything that might seek to disembowel them, while watching the way Stiles held onto the ring box with both hands, like he was worried about dropping it. Derek’s heart was still fluttering from before, his nerves still wracked in fear, but he followed nonetheless, until they arrived at a familiar clearing. Well, almost familiar. Then it hit Derek. This was the first place he had seen Stiles, right after Scott had been bitten.

Derek chuckled. Stiles looked back at him. “Recognize this place?” His face was smiling, but his tone was soft.

“Yeah. It took me a minute, but this is where we met, if I am not mistaken.” He wasn’t. It was.

“Yup. I figured it was appropriate. Well, more appropriate than that fancy restaurant.”

Derek chuckled slightly. He knew what Stiles was up to. He wanted the alpha to feel as much in his element as possible when he asked to marry him. He was worried that Derek might say no. Derek could smell the twinge of fear as it clouded Stiles’ otherwise untainted scent. While this knowledge did nothing to assuage Derek’s fear, it did make him feel a little better. Stiles seemed to sense his relief. Because he turned around fully to face the alpha, and handed him the box. He smiled quietly. Stiles had somehow managed to bring him back to the start.

Derek took it, holding it with both hands, like it might break if he gripped it too tightly. He turned it over in them a few times, feeling the weight of the contents increase as he thought about what he was going to say. His nerves felt like they were trying to shred themselves. It was that moment that the moon decided to peek out from behind the clouds. Derek hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten until it happened. The world became bathed in ghostly light, and Derek looked up at it. Box in one hand, Stiles took the other, interlacing their fingers, and watching as the moon edged from behind its shroud.

Beautiful, Derek thought, before he realized that he wasn’t looking at the moon anymore, but at the human who was standing next to him, eyes upturned towards the sky.

Derek’s nerves screamed in protest just before he began to speak. “Stiles... God, I’m really not good at this...” The human turned towards him almost in slow motion, as the adrenaline that was pumping through Derek’s body filtered into his brain. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “...Stiles.” Saying his name anchored his mind, dulled his screaming nerves. “You have always been there for me, whether you liked it or not. You haven’t left my side for the last five years, and I couldn’t get you to leave for the three years before that.” As Derek recalled the memories, the words came easier, and his heart stopped hammering in his ears. He chuckled slightly. Stiles gaze was locked on his, amber-brown eyes darting back and forth between his own green ones. “You broke down all my walls, all my defenses, time and time again. You forced me to feel things that I swore I never would again. I hated you for it. But I love you for it more. And so...” Derek brought the box forward, and got down on one knee, in front of the moon, the forest, and the world. He let go of Stiles’ hand briefly to open it. When he did, he heard Stiles’ breath catch in his throat, and his heart stammer to life in his chest.

“... So, will you--?” Derek didn’t get the last words out before Stiles pushed his arm aside and kissed him, kneeling inside the werewolf’s legs, and forcefully pulling their faces together with both hands in the process. It was heavy with emotion, and tasted like a cocktail of everything the human was feeling; his excitement, his fear (yes, it was there, if only a little), his unbridled desire, his close-to-tears joy, and overpowering all of it was his love. The human’s scent became more powerful, and Derek fought to keep control as Stiles’ tongue slid past his own briefly, and their lips locked one-over-the-other. Stiles’ hands were resting on the sides of Derek’s neck, and the werewolf could feel the human’s body hum contentedly as they embraced.

Inside him, Derek’s wolf threatened to break free, and it took all of Derek’s strength to keep from devouring Stiles right then and there. He felt his vision shift behind his eyelids. As strong as Derek was to control it, to keep his shifts under control, he was losing it. But it was different, this time. Like someone was trying to let the wolf free. Someone who was decidedly not him. Derek realized as he pulled back from the human, feeling his lips missing the contact as soon as he broke away. He wanted nothing more to continue. He opened his eyes and Stiles met his gaze, palming his neck, eyes glassy and happy, a smile etched upon his face. The human watched as the red faded back to their normal icy green. 

Derek continued where he left off, swallowing first. “...will-will you marry me?” It came out shakier than he would have liked. And then a second passed. And Stiles answered.

“Of course I will.” He promptly returned his lips to their rightful place against Derek’s own. And Derek could feel the rightness of it. He could feel his mate’s mind against his own. The contact was enough to make him gasp quietly. Stiles must have felt it too, because his lips paused where they sat, parted slightly, over Derek’s upper lip.

Then two became one. What boundaries had existed were instantly swept away. Tidal waves of thoughts, emotions, and feelings washed over Derek, drowning him, engulfing him, surrounding him. He was vaguely aware of Stiles lips still locked with his own. Desire, love, happiness, fear, excitement, pain, thought, space, time, all of it went out the window. All that mattered was Stiles. He was the single force keeping Derek grounded, anchored. Everything else disappeared. It was just the two of them. Locked together, joined together. At that moment, Derek knew that everything changed. The bonding process had been completed.

Derek could feel Stiles coursing through his veins, could feel his fingers where they touched his neck, but could also feel his neck as if he were touching it with his own hands. It was like they were sharing the same space, but occupying two different, yet thoroughly intertwined, worlds. He could feel Stiles pull at his mind, and drag the wolf to the surface. Derek didn’t resist. He tried to show his fear to Stiles as best as he could. But he did not expect what would happen next.

Derek shifted, but with even more control than he even credited himself with. He could feel Stiles gently coaxing the wolf out of him. He felt his incisors lengthen and his vision flicker before him. He felt the claws begin to extend out of his fingers. His muscles twitched, but it wasn’t as painful as it had been before. Stiles was somehow controlling the transition itself, and Derek was just along for the ride.

Once it had completed, Stiles’ presence pulled back, but Derek didn’t feel any of the rage he normally felt. Instead of barely contained chaos, it was an extension of himself. He felt balanced, and in the instances when he might have faltered, he felt a tendril of thought or feeling reach out and lightly coax order back into it. He returned to himself, and opened his eyes. He saw through his wolf’s eyes, and Stiles was still in front of him. He suppressed a quick pang of fear. But Stiles just leaned into Derek’s palm, which had been resting on his face, and kissed it, nuzzling it in the process. Derek felt the warmth spread down his arm and join his heart. Electricity, some might call it. Fire, others might as well. But no. It was a slow burn. And Derek let it wash over him. Stiles turned his head, and Derek followed his gaze. Derek yearned for Stiles’ kiss on his lips, and the human obliged.

He had not been that happy in a very long time.

**

They sat there for several long moments, and Derek eventually shifted back, and placed the ring on Stiles’ finger. Stiles wouldn’t stop playing with it the entire way back to the car. His middle finger and pinky kept absentmindedly spinning it between them, and when he finally did get back into the car, his other hand wouldn’t leave it alone either.

He would get used to it. Just as Derek had gotten used to Stiles. It took a while, and some seriously shitty goings-on, but eventually, Derek got used to having the human around, and despite his thorough and well-tested defenses, he fell in love with him. For the last five years, Derek was in love, still was, actually. It woke him every morning, pushed its way through his veins, ghosted in his vision when he opened his eyes, and warmed him as he slept. Eventually the ‘getting-used-to-it’ faded away, and became something more. Eventually, Stiles became a part of his life, and the parts that Derek had to ‘get used to’ were the times when the human wasn’t around for whatever reason, and Derek felt lonely, or his mind started to wander to that place where all it knew was pain. It was definitely a change. So was this. But Derek was beginning to think that he liked change. Or at least, this kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Make sure you leave kudos and comment!
> 
> You can check out the rest of my Teen Wolf/Sterek-related stuff on my blog at watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com
> 
> Stay on the lookout for the final few installments of this story. I am expecting at least two more chapters. They might take me a while, but they will happen. I mean, who doesn't like some good ol' fashioned Sterek porn? Exactly. Stay tuned ;)
> 
> -Stiles Kolpath

**Author's Note:**

> Started off as just a short one I wrote while on my lunch hour about Derek asking Stiles' dad for permission to propose to his son. Happy feels ensued. Now it has become something else entirely.
> 
> Hope you Enjoyed!
> 
> -Stiles Kolpath
> 
> more to be found at www.watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com!


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